The Woman of Steel
by Chiddie
Summary: The people of Metropolis have never seen anyone like her. Problem is, is she a friend, or a foe? Based on Superman Action Comics, the New 52 series .
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: **This chapter based on Action Comics #01 (The New 52 series)

* * *

It's early evening in Metropolis. On one of the tallest buildings, a party is being held. Finn Hudson, Mr Metropolis himself, is celebrating another successful 'transaction.'

"It's a done deal," Hudson says smugly. "How 'bout we celebrate?"

"Mr Hudson…" replies Rory Flannigan, his assistant. Hudson can here the uncertainty in his voice. His face looks as if he feels something amiss.

A flash of light streaks across the night sky.

"I smell rats."

In the midst of their party is a woman, knees bent after falling from the sky. She slowly stands up. For a girl barely out of her teens, in skinny jeans and a skin-hugging blue shirt, wearing a slightly ridiculous red cape, she's intimidating. Must be her red, glowing eyes.

"Rats. Rats with money."

Hudson steps back and allows his mean to aim their weapons at the girl. He hopes the rumors aren't true.

"Rats with guns."

Hudson hears Flannigan's voice, shaking.

"What are you?"

The girl smiles.

"Your worst nightmare."

* * *

Quinn Fabray rushes out of her car.

"Chang, you're with me," she calls to one of her officers. They rush into the hotel and move towards the elevator.

The employee at the check-in counter calls for them to stop.

"Mr Hudson is in a meeting! You can't just go i—"

She flashes her badge at him as she waits for the elevator to come down. It arrives, and when it opens, she and three of her men get in.

"This is Mr Metropolis himself," Mike Chang says. "He can have us all fired."

Quinn talks, more to herself than as a reply to Mike.

"How do we stop something that shouldn't exist?"

The report tells her of a girl that flew in from the night sky. Quinn can only think of one being that can do that.

She places a hand to her temple. "Where's our precedent here?"

"Probably shot and stuffed. Mounted on the wall most likely," an officer says gravely.

The elevator door opens, revealing chaos on the top floor. Quinn takes in the damage. There are men scattered all around, one in a chandelier, one put through the wall, two tied together with a metal bar, the rest lying on their back, unconscious.

A tall European-looking man rushes into her line of vision. Quinn's not exactly sure what he's saying. His deep breathing coupled by his thick—Irish?—accent makes his words almost indecipherable.

"—hurling them like they we—weighed nothing. Flames shooting out of her ey—eyes."

The man sees them and hurls himself at Quinn's feet.

"Don't let her get to me."

Quinn pulls him to his feet.

"Go downstairs sir. One of the officers will take your statement."

She and her men walk out of the elevator, allowing the tall man to get in.

"A madwoman…red paracahute…he has Mr Hudson!" he says, as the elevator doors close. "Won't somebody help him?"

Mike walks in front of her, picking up a twisted, metal object from the floor.

"How the hell does anyone do this with a gun?"

"Drop it, Mike. Let's go."

Quinn leads her men to where the exit to the rooftop terrace is.

"Careful," she says to her men. "She's stro—there! Ahead!"

"It's her Ma'am!" Mike says. "Is that her? Is that…"

_Oh god._

Quinn has met all kinds in her time on the force, but she hasn't seen anyone like _her_.

She's standing on the edge of the railing, a shadow cast across her face, leaving it dark bar her eyes, which are glowing a bright red. She's holding above her head, with only her left hand, Hudson, who is easily twice her size and weight.

Quinn walks a few steps forward. Cool and calm, she says:

"Put that man down and step away from the edge."

The girl grins.

"Sure officer, I'll put him down…just as soon as he makes a full confession. To someone who still believes that all men are equal in the eyes of the law."

She lowers Hudson so that his heels slightly graze the top of the railing.

"I guess that counts me out."

"Somebody, save me!"

What should she do?

"Sir," Quinn begins. "I suggest you—"

"In god's name, you people are supposed to protect me!"

Quinn would like to slap him on the end with the side of her gun. Instead, she aims her weapon at the girl, sure that her men are following.

"Put the man down. We _will_ shoot otherwise."

The girl's eyes flash.

"Still won't talk, Hudson? Okay, you had your chance."

Quinn watches as the girl steps of the balcony.

"No!"

She rushes to the balcony, but it's too late. The girl drops Hudson, and he falls to the sidewalk like a sack of potatoes. She waits for the sound of Hudson being flattened like a pancake, but, seconds from the sidewalk, the girl swoops in and carries the man in her arms. Quinn, followed by her men, rushes back down to the street.

She sees the girl in the middle of the crater, Hudson hanging above her head once more.

Her hands are shaking slightly when she points the gun at her.

"Do—don't move."

Never in her entire career has her voice broken. First time for everything, maybe.

The girl turns to look at her.

"No one's too big to be taken down a peg or two."

Looking at Hudson, the girl continues. "I can do this all night Hudson. What do you say?"

She lets go of him, and he drops to the ground with a thump.

"I—I confess! I'm guilty! Of everything! I used illegal cheap labor, I—I don't follow safety standards, I bri—bribed city officials! I lied, I lied to everyone…"

The girl glares at the police officers.

"You know the drill, Metropolis. Treat people right, unless you want a visit from me."

Hudson confessed…but the girl still threatened his life. Quinn doesn't lower her gun.

"You're under a—arrest."

Damn. Stuttering again.

The girl puts a hand on her hip and tilts her head.

"You need to get a doctor for that ulcer, Fabray. It's throbbing fit to burst."

"So god help me, I'll—"

"How 'bout you guys do your job and take care of the _real _criminals. Then I won't have to do it for you."

Quinn feels a hint of guilt, but she's not lowering her weapon anytime soon.

"Let me guess. You want to see if what the Daily Planet says about me is true," the girl says, lifting her hands up in a surrender, although her lips are formed into a smug smile.

"Come on. Shoot."

"Men, hold your fi—"

She feels a burst come from her left, and sees a bullet aiming for the girl's shoulder. Fast as lightning, the girl reacts. In less than a second, her arms are crossed over her chest. Quinn sees the bullet pinched between her index finger and her thumb. The girl drops it to the ground.

"Satisfied?"

The girl stretches, lifting her arms above her head, showing a bit of bare skin between her shirt and jeans.

"I really want to chat a few more minutes, guys, but I need to go. Oh, and Fabray, what's the first point of military discipline? Obey first before you complain? Make sure the big fella over there knows that."

Quinn can't let her get away. Bullets won't harm her, but maybe they can slow her down?

"Men! Open fire!"

The girl gives her a smirk, before dashing off. Bullets hit her, but they reflect off her skin.

"Catch me if you can!"

And like that, the girl disappears.

Quinn doesn't want to do this. The girl just made Mr Hudson himself confess everything that she's suspected him of being. But it's part of the procedure.

She turns on her communicator.

"She's all yours. Activate the city."

3


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: **This part is also based on Action Comics #01 (The New 52 series)

* * *

Rachel Berry has no idea why she keeps buying this brand of soda. It's too flat and too sweet.

Oh well.

She takes another sip from the can.

Rachel is currently in a secret underground military base. She was asked by the US government to help with the removal of a certain pest. Even if they agreed to pay her ridiculously high consultancy fee, Rachel would have refused. Luckily, their problem seemed to be worthy of her superior intellect.

"When it first appeared, the 'Superwoman' could toss trucks around and use skyscrapers as spears. Now, six months later, it's faster, stronger. How long before it becomes unstoppable?"

Rachel rolls her eyes. Pierce is such a worry wart. Doesn't he know he has the most brilliant human mind within reach?

She hears Pierce sigh.

"If I had an army of men like this 'Superwoman'…urgh. How do they expect me to call it that?"

She takes another sip.

"It was your daughter who named the creature, General Pierce. Notice how it didn't refuse the name."

Frankly, Rachel's getting a bit tired of this conversation.

"You boasted that you could deliver Superwoman before eight pm. The money we're giving you is off the charts, and we aren't prepared to pay you past that time. Understood, Berry?"

"I could have spent a few more dollars on props and drained your entire Steel Soldier budget dry," she says disdainfully.

Rachel feels Pierce's eyes, ehem, piercing holes into her skull. She allows herself to smirk.

"But I love my country. All I ask is information, Daniel. Once given that, I can prove to you, once and for all, that a monster is walking among us."

* * *

Santana laughs to herself. Do they really think they can catch her?

Suddenly, she picks up panicked words.

"_It's turning this way!"_

"_What the hell are they doing?"_

"_Somebody tell them to stop!"_

"_There are people in here!"_

This chase can continue later. There are people to save.

* * *

Rachel watches the screen. She sees people and their pets cowering as a wrecking ball hovers close to them. She knows Superwoman won't be able to resist.

"McKinley Square is the ideal inescapable trap," she says out loud, for the good of the average-minded general.

"In it are buildings scheduled for demolition. But these buildings aren't entirely uninhabited…"

"You're risking the lives of innocent citizens?"

"You wanted Superwoman, didn't you?"

* * *

Santana watches as the wrecking ball hurdles towards the building. There are people inside. She rushes towards it, and using her arms, slows it down.

The ball stops. She tears the metal chain connecting it. to the vehicle The people in the building are still cowering in fear.

"Stick with me," she calls out to them. "I'm making—"

She lifts the sphere.

"—a way—"

She spins and releases it, making it go through an empty wall.

"—out."

She flies towards the gaping hole, holding up the wall to keep it from collapsing.

The civilians stand up and rush out.

Okay; they're good. Now, Santana needs to have a little talk with the—

"Fuck! They got street tanks!"

Uh oh.

"YOU ARE UNDER ARREST."

Santana turns, just in time to see a net envelope her.

"Really, you think this is eno—"

She sees electrons run through the wire, just before she feels them pass through her.

"GAAAAHHHH!"

Mini-fireworks explode inside her vessels. She has to get out.

She pulls on the net of wires. They increase the intensity of the current, but she's out.

And she's angry.

Her eyes glow red as her hand moves to the chain connected to the wrecking ball.

"You. Run."

She rushes to the tank.

"_What's she doing?"_

"_No, that's impossible…Tank 2!"_

"_They said she was strong, but that's…"_

"TANK 2! FIRE!"

Too late. The sphere connects.

The tank explodes.

Santana's blinded by the light, and it hurts. A lot.

"Ow."

"_I'm reloading the cannon."_

"_No, wait! Hold up, the civilians—"_

Santana opens her eyes to find the people she saved standing between her and the tanks.

"Enough! This girl saved our lives!"

"What the fuck is wrong with you people!"

Santana feels someone carrying her to her feet.

"Get outta here, we'll cover you," a man says.

"Can you really jump over the Metropolis Tower?" asks a woman.

Santana smiles a little.

"Never tried from here. Stand back, and we'll see. Oh, and thanks."

She hears the sound of sirens.

* * *

Quinn can see her up ahead, within a crowd of civilians and police cars.

"They got her," she shouts into the communicator, "McKinley Square! Send in the robocopters!."

They haven't used the automated flying laser gun in years. But nothing else seemed to stop the girl.

She watches as the robocopters descend from the sky and swarm around the girl.

Quinn hears her shout.

"Don't get into trouble on my account. If you need me, I'll be around."

The robocops fire, and the lasers block the girl from Quinn's vision. In seconds, they dim, and…

…she's gone.

"Chang," she says as she gets out of the car, "send status report to home base."

She hears him speak into the communicator as she walks to where she last saw the girl.

"We lost her. One minute she was there, the next…"

Quinn bends her knees to take a closer look at the crater where the girl once was.

"We used to have laws in this town," she murmurs to herself.

"Like gravity. I remembered gravity."

That girl had super strength, super speed, the ability to fly, god knows what else…

…what _is _she?

* * *

The coast is clear. The copter spotlights are looking in other directions.

Santana descends from the blimp she was hiding under, down to the top of an apartment building. She takes off her cape and quickly stuffs it in the laundry basket she keeps in an abandoned air vent. She takes off her shirt as well, then places on a loose shirt and a pair of glasses that she keeps in the same basket. She replaces it, just before she hears the door open.

It's Mrs Nyxly, her landlady.

"Oh. My. God. Santana, what did they do to your pretty face?"

Santana sees the worried look on the middle-aged woman's face. She really hates lying to her, but she has to do what she has to do.

She repositions the glasses that are askew on the bridge of her nose.

"I, er… I wrote about the Titan's hold on the underground, Mrs N. Seems like they don't take kindly to people who tell the truth about them."

She hears a disapproving click from Mrs Nyxly.

"And they'd hit a girl half their size?"

Santana scrunches her nose, causing her glasses to drop. She must stop doing that. She pushes her glasses up.

"Nah, don't worry about me, Mrs N. I grew up in Lima. A farmgirl like me can handle anything the city can throw."

She hears Mrs Nyxly sigh.

"You're an inspiration, Santana. And that's not just coming from me. My nephew, my daughter-in-law, everyone I know reads your work. What you write changes lives."

Santana blushes.

"I—I'm just doing my job. But thanks, Mrs N."

She walks into her room, followed by Mrs Nyxly.

"That, however, does not excuse the rent. This week's nor last's."

Santana turns around to face the landlady, thumbs pulling her front pockets.

"Don't worry Mrs N. The story that got me beaten up also got me a paycheck. Wait right there."

"That's a good girl."

Santana shuffles through her clothes. She swore she left it here somewhere…oh god. What if she dropped it? Think Santana, think…distract her. Yes.

"Did you hear about Superwoman dropping those robbers into an open sewer?"

Good enough, she supposes.

"I heard about a woman over in Bakerline whose husband was beating her up every night. Superwoman heard her crying and saw him abusing her and threw the guy out the window and into the river. They say he broke both his hips and four ribs."

Wow…she didn't mean to do that. She just wanted to warn him, that's all.

"This door needs a better lock," she hears Mrs Nyxly say.

Santana shakes her head. He was beating her up anyway. Karma, right?

"I think it's your responsibility, Mrs N. Since you're the landlady and all. Besides, there's nothing here worth stealing. Unless you count my books."

Yes! She finds a wad of cash in the front packet of the jacket she wore yesterday.

"I just want you to be safe, that's all I'm saying. Superwoman or none watching over us. This ain't Beverly Hills. It's the Metro Heights Adjacent."

Santana stands up and walks over to Mrs Nyxly, handing her the money.

"If I said it once, I've said it a hundred times. You're a good girl, Santana, unlike some of the so-called geniuses that I have to put up with."

Santana chuckes.

"Did Sugar try singing again?"

A look of distaste flashes across Mrs Nyxly's face.

"Don't even remind me. Artists, musicians, models, whatever it is…they basically mean 'professionally unemployed'."

"It's not their fault that no one hires them, Mrs N. They're just doing what they love."

The landlady shakes her head.

"Maybe, Santana. But not everyone's like that. Oh, wait. Two people were looking for you. They said they were your friends. Uh, let me recall now…a Sam Evans and Brittany Pierce?"

Santana almost laughs. Sam's sort of her best bro, but she's pretty sure Brittany hates her. Just because they're from rival newspapers isn't a really good reason for the animosity, right? Okay, so maybe she and Santana get the same material, but Santana gets it first, since she has super speed and senses and all, making Brittany look slow in comparison…that doesn't mean they have to be rivals…right? Well, Sam did say she was pretty ambitious.

"They were very nice and very good-looking. I say, Santana, if you really do know Mr Evans, you should date him. You'd make a beautiful couple."

Urgh. Not again.

"I know them Mrs N. And, uh, trying to focus on work for now. Relationships are sort of distracting."

Mrs Nyxly shakes her head.

"That's what you always say. What happened to Mr Puckerman?"

Santana blanches. The guy who used to be the security guard to the 7-11 across the street, the one who always tried to flirt with her when she tries to buy a slushie, the one with a really bad mohawk?

Ew.

"We never dated. And he's not my type, Mrs N."

"You work too hard, Santana. Really, you should try Mr Evans."

She loves Mrs Nyxly to death, but—oh god. Fuck. She has to call Sam. Now.

She pretends to check her watch.

"Uh, don't want to be rude, Mrs N, but I have to call my story in to the editor."

"That's okay, sweetie. Good night."

"Good night, Mrs N."

Santana rushes down the stairs and opens her phone. She dials his number.

Come on Sam, come on…pick up…yes!

"Sam! Sam Evans! It's Santana Lopez."

5


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: **Still based on Action Comics #01 (The New 52 series)

* * *

"It's him, Sam," she whispers, "Kurt Hummel, Hudson's ex-enforcer, right under our noses! Sam?"

Brittany takes her eyes off the man in a fedora and coat to see what's keeping Sam's attention. He's…fuck it Sam. He's talking on the phone.

"Who are you talking to Sam?" she asks irritatingly. God, how often do you see a man as underground as Hummel? Not very often, that's what.

"It's Santana. Santana Lopez."

Brittany purses her lips. Of course it would be her. That girl on the other newspaper who somehow gets the whole scoop before Brittany even arrives. Probably the only reporter in the whole of Metropolis who could make her look bad.

"What does she want?" she hisses.

"I haven't even talked to her yet."

"Drop it, Sam. Remember, rival newspa—"

"Santana? It's me, Sam."

"—per."

Brittany internally groans. Looks like he won't be dropping it anytime soon. Fuck.

But Hummel…

Brittany rolls her eyes. Looks like she'll have to do this alone. She pulls Sam with her as she walks towards Hummel.

"Brittany, she says Hudson had a Superwoman-related meltdown. Santana filed the scoop. She says not to get on any train…she already called the track authorities…Santana? Santana, are you there?"

Like Brittany would trust anything that would come out of a _rival _reporter's mouth.

"Don't you just _love _how she tries to sabotage our stories? Come on Sam, follow me."

She takes a step forward, towards Kurt Hummel. He has a boyish quality to his features, but Brittany knows better than to judge a book by its cover.

Besides, she has pages of hard evidence that says he's the real deal.

"Santana Lopez, ha," she says quietly. So she gets a scoop about Superwoman making Hudson wet himself. Whatever. _This _is a thousand times better. It's one more step to disclosing the criminal that Hudson truly is.

"Kurt Hummel," she shouts, "you belong to me. For I am the truth and the way!"

* * *

"Maybe you could start it off with this statement: 'there are skeletons in the foundations of the city of tomorrow'."

Santana hates talking with her editor. Most of the time, Schuester's useless.

"Yes, Mr Schue, I do mean that literally. As for the Superwoman thing…sure, it's intimidation, but it backs up our hard evidence against Hudson."

Schue continues talking. Usually Santana drowns him out, picking up keywords so that she can answer him. She hears him say 'Evans' and 'Pierce'.

"Wha—what? Mr Schue can you repeat the last parts? This is happening now? I told them! I…I, uh, have to go back upstairs for a second."

She switches off her phone and runs to a nearby alley. She hopes it isn't too late. She takes off her shirt, revealing a blue one identical to the shirt the night before. She stashes the one that she just took off behind a garbage can. She'll get that later.

She flies to the nearest train station.

* * *

The man doesn't turn around.

Could it be possible that Brittany made a mistake?

"Ugh. I hate this phone. I can't call Santana."

Brittany just can't deal with the embarrassment of getting something this big wrong. Maybe, what Lopez scooped up can point her in the right direction…?

"So what was all that Finn Hudson stuff? Did Lopez say anything? I mean, what does she know that we don't?"

"I—yes! Signal!"

Brittany's about to repeat herself when she hears the man she was observing speak a few words.

"A done deal, Mr Hudson," he whispers. "A done deal. _Now_, we can get started."

Yes! It is him!

A phone is shoved into Brittany's face.

"Ummmphh. Sam!"

"B, read Santana's message! This train shouldn't even be running. Why aren't we stopping, Britt?"

Focus, Brittany.

"Sam, we're after the bad guy."

She walks closer to Hummel.

"Hey Mister!"

* * *

"Everybody—"

"STAND AWAY FROM THE DOORS."

"ALL SERVICES ARE CURRENTLY SUSPENDED."

Don't you just hate it when the PA system interrupts you?

"Everybody," Santana says to the people in the station, "get to safety."

She floats towards the door, and places her hands between the gap.

"This train won't stop—"

She pulls the sliding doors apart.

"—unless I make it stop."

"DANGER."

"STAND AWAY FROM THE DOORS."

"PRESSURIZED TUBE."

Santana steps in, and runs towards the train.

* * *

He doesn't turn to face her. Instead, he walks towards the front of the train.

Brittany feels the train go faster.

"He's heading for the Driver's Cabin!"

She jogs towards him.

"Mr Hummel? Hey!"

This time, the man turns around. He draws out two firearms, both pointing to her and Sam's heads.

"Now pay attention," he says voice higher than the usual man. Somehow, this makes him even more intimidating.

"If you have anything to say, say it to the guns."

* * *

Santana stops as she sees the train rushing towards her. She plants her feet sturdily on the ground, and puts her arms out in front of her.

The train connects, and Santana pushes.

"Easy now, easy…urggggghhhh…"

It's—it's harder than she thought.

The train's nose is compressed, being crushed together by the train's speed and her strength. But it goes as far as it can. It can't compress any longer, and the full force of the train is laid on Santana. She feels her feet slipping away from beneath her.

Gotta find a way to hold on…

* * *

"The train's going at two hundred miles an hour," Hummel says to them.

"Would you rather die a quick and relatively painless death now, or take the chances of dying a slow, horrible death when the train explodes or flattens itself into a pancake?"

Suddenly, the train stops. Hummel loses his balance. Brittany sees an opportunity. She pounces on him, the same time Sam does. She sees several others helping them, taking Hummel's guns away.

* * *

Santana claws at the ground. The train's slowing, but it's not stopping.

* * *

Brittany feels the train slowing down. She grabs on to a pole.

"We'll be safe everybody! The train's speed's going do—"

An explosion rocks the train, and Brittany can see flames shooting out its sides.

* * *

Santana feels heat engulf her as something explodes.

She needs to focus. She has to stop the train. It bursted out of the railway; now, it's hurtling towards an office building.

Santana flies against it, she pushes, it's slowing down…

She feels the glass of the office window press against her sides.

* * *

Oh god, oh god, oh god.

Brittany sees a building approaching them.

Oh god.

The train collides, crashing through the office's walls.

* * *

The train puts her through the office window, and moments later, through a cement wall.

Come on, Santana.

Push.

* * *

Brittany holds on to the pole for dear life, as the train hurtles towards the ground. It lands with a creak and a groan.

Please, someone, save them.

* * *

Rachel observes the astronomy map in front of her. She takes a sip from her can.

"Has anyone _else _even bothered to look at the sky? There's something past the orbit of Neptune, getting clo—"

She hears footsteps coming towards her.

"You! You knew this was going to happen! You maniac, you just endangered my daughter's life! I don't care how smart or well-connected you think you a—"

Rachel gestures for him to stop.

"The brown tree snake," she says, eyes towards the screen, "introduced to the US territory of Guam right after World War II, caused dozens of indigenous birds and reptile species to become extinct. The cane toad, sent to Australia as a pest control agent, decimated local biodiversity."

She walks towards the screen.

"Non-native strains _will_ destroy entire ecologies given the opportunity."

Rachel zones in to a tiny circle on the screen. Earth.

"Our planet is playing host to a powerful, parasitic alien organism attempting to masquerade—badly, I might add—as one of us. A human being."

She feels the general walk closer to her.

"We have to stop it, Pierce. Ordinary bullets won't work. We even tried mortar shells; they barely slow it down."

She looks at him.

"But aim the world's biggest bullet at its head with the help of a very disgruntled businesswoman…"

Rachel fiddles with the controls on the panel.

"You wanted Superwoman, General Pierce. Dead or alive."

Rachel turns and walks away.

"Behold. I give you Superwoman."

She takes another sip from the soda can.

It's empty.

"Stay in touch."

Rachel leaves Daniel Pierce behind, looking at the screen.

It shows Superwoman, pinned to the Daily Planet building by the tip of the bullet train's head.

5


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N: **Based on Action Comics #02 (The New 52 series). I just want to tell everyone that the storyline's pretty much the original comic's, and I'm only modifying some parts to better suit the gender/character bending. I love you all.

* * *

"_How can anyone do what she's doing?"_

"_We ran enough voltage through her to fry a mountain gorilla."_

"_What…what is she?"_

Santana gains consciousness.

Her head…it hurts.

After that, and after the voices, what she notices first is that she's bound to a chair.

"_How is she able to resist this?"_

She pulls on the chains anchoring her arms down.

"_No! She's breaking loose!"_

"_Juice her again!"_

"AAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHH!"

* * *

Rachel watches Superwoman. Her head hangs limp after being shocked by enough electricity to kill five men.

Interesting.

"It's—it's nuts," says a scientist behind her.

"It's not human," Rachel replies, placidly.

"Her heartrate just accelerates, then goes back to normal."

Rachel corrects him. "It."

"Doctor Berry," says another scientist, "she's x-ray opaque."

"_It_. How many times do I have to tell you?" she says, eyes never leaving from the alien. "Try again for a blood sample."

These are the government's most brilliant minds?

She feels underwhelmed.

Seriously, if she wasn't kept busy by the alien, she'd be asleep.

"We've almost gone as far as we can with the electric chair," she says to the group behind her.

"Personally, I would like to see how its skin reacts to a powerful solvent. How quickly can someone bring fluoroantimonic acid down here?"

The acid would dissolve human bone. Surely it can affect the creature too?

Rachel hears the door open.

"What the hell is going on?"

"Hello to you too, Dr Jones."

Rachel offers her half of her attention. The other half is still on Superwoman, who still isn't moving.

Hmmm. It seems that Dr Jones is being accompanied by Sergeant Corben.

"Rachel!"

"Doctor. Sergeant. What can I do for you today?"

"You can tell me exactly what you think you're doing here! I only just heard about this! Torturing a woman or man on US soil, anywhere for that matter, is unacceptable!"

Rachel turns to face Dr Jones.

"Those laws apply to human beings, Mercedes. And tell me, how can we torture a so-called woman with skin as hard as steel and hair that can't even be cut?"

She points out to the girl still sitting on the electric chair.

"Take a look. She's fine."

Rachel sees the Sergeant step towards the window, squinting.

"That's her? That tiny, beat-up girl is her?"

"It."

A hand lands on Rachel's shoulder, spinning her so that her face is directly in front of Dr Jones'.

"Are you even listening to me? I want this stopped. Right. Now."

"She's shaking off the gas," says the PA systems, the voice of a man from inside the experimental chamber.

A man in a hazmat suit is standing next to Superwoman, holding an injection-gun full of acid.

Rachel shrugs if Jones' hand and leans into the microphone.

"Well then, get a move on."

She watches as the man pushes in the injection…

The needle breaks. The solid titanium needle.

Rachel turns to the sergeant.

"Your Steel Soldier program is, as of today, obsolete. Your current results are nothing compared to it. If we find a way to dissect it, we may be able to make our men _invincible_."

"Doctor," a scientist calls out, "vital signs are stabilizing. She's waking up."

"Arrrgh! There's no justification for this! None whatsoever! Tell General Pierce that I quit!"

Dr Jones storms out the room.

Good.

Rachel always thought she was too soft.

She turns to the remaining men.

"I thought she'd never leave. So, we've established that torture's a bad thing…"

Rachel looks back to the creature.

"Bring it up to 300 000 volts, ten amps. And then we'll talk about it."

* * *

"Fire!"

Daniel Pierce watches as his men engulf the cloth in flames and bullets.

A minute passes; the flames die out and the shooting stops.

The cape's still there.

Not even a single scratch on it.

"We tried everything, sir," reports a soldier.

"It's like the rocket all over again. Indestructible."

He hasn't seen anything even close to this.

"General, Sir!"

Daniel turns around to see a cadet running towards him.

"There is someone claiming to be your daughter outside the gate, Sir!" he salutes.

"Sir, something about a Father's Day gift."

Oh god. What now?

* * *

"General Daniel Pierce! Come on, we've done this already."

"Father's day is in June."

Brittany looks at the guard, who doesn't seem even close to letting her in. She spies a jeep approaching them. The driver looks familiar.

Brittany stands up, and looks at the soldier straight in the eye.

"So what, you think my dad, your commanding officer, doesn't deserve getting a gift more than once a year?"

The jeep stops, and out comes her dad.

"Soldier, let her in."

Brittany gives him a smirk as he opens the door. She rushes to her father.

"Hey dad."

The general raises an eyebrow.

"It's not like it's not nice seeing you around, Brittany, but you only come here when you need something."

"I—okay dad. You caught me."

Her voice turns serious.

"I know you have Superwoman here."

Brittany remembers men in green prying off the girl from the wall. She's been following Superwoman for months; Brittany's seen her save suicide jumpers in mid-air, punch through brick walls and steel doors, deflect speeding bullets…

She never thought she would see her so broken.

"Brittany," her father sighs, "I don't know what to do with you sometimes. She's being held for questioning."

Do they think she caused the train wreck?

"Dad, she saved our lives! The tube was sabotaged!"

Brittany takes out a folder from her pouch.

"Look. I have photographs, cuttings, every eyewitness account I could find. She's saved multitudes, dad. She's a good person."

"A person who doesn't officially exist, Brittany."

Her father gets the folder from her hands.

"But if she did, she'd be safe. Now come on, honey…"

"So she is here! I knew it!"

Brittany watches as her dad goes through the contents of the folder.

"'Here' is a secure military establishment. Wherever she is, she's in the safe hands of experts. Oh, and Brittany," he says, closing the folder, "I'm going to keep this as evidence."

* * *

"Needles can't pierce your skin. You just survived another five minutes' exposure to sarin gas."

Santana's vision swims before her eyes. She only just manages to hear the words coming out of the speakers.

"—Krypton mean anything to you?"

Santana groans.

"No—noble gas…number 36…"

Krypton. The inactive, gaseous form of Kryptonite, her biggest weakness. Prolonged exposure to it, and she dies.

"Thirty-six on the periodic table. Yes, so you're semi-intelligent, at least. We know what you are. We know what that rocket is."

Santana…she just needs them to stop the gas. Just for a while.

"It's a bullet aimed at this planet, right?"

She feels the gas stop streaming in. She shakes off her disorientation and uses her x-ray vision to look through the one-way mirror. She sees a skeleton. Its owner is surprisingly shorter than her. Judging from the small teeth, rounded shoulder blades, and narrowing ribcages, it's probably a girl.

"I'm sure you can see how the idea of indestructible, shape-shifting, extra-terrestrial soldiers with unbreakable armor and weapons might make us nervous."

The skeleton's jaw moves in time with the words. This must be the one speaking.

"You've managed to hide among us, even mimic us, for years now—but you can drop the movie star disguise now. We know what you really look like."

Is—is she suggesting that she's too good-looking?

"Look to your right. Isn't this the phenotype of one of your kind in its natural state?"

Santana turns her head to see two soldiers bringing in a glass case. Inside is a unicorn/donkey/goat thing. She stares at it. And starts laughing. It's utterly ridiculous.

She hears the sound of an aluminium can being crushed.

"Stop doing that!"

Says the woman torturing her.

But Santana stops.

Instead, she grins.

"I look just like everybody else. Maybe a bit better-looking. Except my eyes don't just absorb radiation like yours do; they emit too. All kinds…"

Santana feels warmth gather around her eyes.

"…like the microwaves I just used to fry your equipment."

She quickly switches back to x-ray vision, and sees the body of the woman twisted, as if facing the people behind her.

'_Shock her!"_

"_Dr Berry…"_

"_Nothing works."_

Scientists. Always talking too much.

* * *

Brittany follows her father as he walks into the base.

"Daaaaaaad!"

"I have enough on an already overburdened plate of unprocessed sewage right now, Lois."

He enters a building, handing Brittany's folder to the soldier positioned right next to the door.

"Taylor, you talk her down."

Her father walks through the door. Brittany moves to follow, but then the entrance is blocked by Brittany's old friend.

"Taylor, please," Brittany pouts. "I've known Steel Soldier since I was a kid."

"I'm sorry, Brittany. Orders are orders. I…wow."

Brittany watches as his eyes soften. Er, awkward…

"You look great. Did you notice that I regrew my moustache?"

She doesn't have time for this.

"You sure did. Look, Taylor. I need to know where they've taken Superwoman and what they're doing to her."

Taylor narrows his eyes.

"Superwoman? I've been reading your articles…you've been writing about her a lot…what happened to us, Brittany?"

I—

What's that supposed to mean?

Brittany shakes it off.

"Come on, Taylor. Where is she?"

"General Pierce won't let me hear the end of this…"

She hears him sigh.

"Go inside, and walk until you reach a wall. Turn right, and you'll see an elevator. Go to the last floor down, then walk down the stairs until the very end. Walk straight ahead, then when you reach a branch, turn left. The room's the very last in the hall. You need this to pass through the door for authorized personne—god, why am I doing this?"

Taylor looks up to the heavens and sighs, but still gives Brittany his ID card.

"Thanks Taylor."

He steps aside for her to pass through.

She goes in.

5


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N #1: **Based on Action Comics #02 (The New 52 series). And by based I mean it's pretty much the same storyline.

**A/N #2: **An insightful creature told me that my sentences were too choppy and everything. Forgive me. I read the comic as I write and I get distracted easily. I'm working on that OTL

* * *

Her strength's back.

She pulls against the metal chains and leather belts binding her. She crushes the electrode cap and stands up. Santana feels current running through her body, but she carries on.

"All I needed—"

She pulls the electric chair from the ground.

"—was a minute to recover."

"_Do something!"_

"_Sound the alarm!"_

"Lucky for me—"

She lifts the chair above her head.

"—you talk too much."

She throws it at the window, just as the alarm sounds. Santana jumps into the wreckage and looks for the doctor. She's there, cowered under a desk.

Not so tough now that she's in the same room now, is she?

Santana overturns the table and wraps an arm around the woman's waist, lifting her on to her shoulder. She runs back into the room and then rushes to the steel door, tearing it off its hinges with her free arm.

Red lights are flashing on and off as soldiers rush in and swarm her. Santana adjusts the position of the woman, placing her neck in the crook of her elbow.

"At ease, boys."

The soldiers must know what she's capable of doing.

They lower their firearms.

Santana lifts the doctor, so that her ear is practically in front of her mouth.

"Okay, doctor," she whispers. "Call me sentimental, but you took something that belongs to me, and I want it back. Right. Now. Otherwise…well, let's just leave that to imagination.

Santana releases her hold, and the woman falls to the ground. She fidgets, and Santana places her foot on top of her to keep her in place.

"So, where is it doctor?"

She watches as a shaking finger points to the right.

She lets off her foot.

"I'll find it."

Santana runs down the hall, and checks out every room with her x-ray vision. There it is. The room on the right just before the hallway makes a left.

She runs and kicks down the door. Her cape is at the end of the room, surrounded by soldiers with all kinds of guns. She moves towards it, and puts it on. The men open fire, but it deflects against both her skin and the cloth.

"When will you guys ever learn?"

She speeds off.

"I'm outta here."

"_Ha-la."_

Kryptonian.

Santana exits the room and follows the sound. She turns left, and sees blue light being emitted from somewhere inside a room.

She goes inside.

"_Ha-la-la!"_

The sound is coming from a rocket ship.

"_Ha-la Shara Rio-Alor kal don Rio-Alor va Silber Ran-Al"_

She walks towards it and blows on its surface.

"_El-Kor! El-Krypton!"_

Crystals start forming, running like cracks across the rocket's exterior.

"_El-Rao! el-Eoeo! Shara Rio-Alor!"_

She hears the sounds of footsteps approaching.

"Protect yourself," she says to it. "I'll come back for you."

"Hands in the air!"

Her fists stay clenched at her sides.

"Your prisons can't hold me. Your weapons can't hurt me."

Warmth gathers around her eyes.

"So what are you going to do now?"

"Turn. Around."

"Okay."

She faces them. Faster than a whip, she sends heat rays to the first row's guns.

"What is she doing?"

"Did she just—AAAAHHHHHHHHH!"

Santana runs. She reaches a flight of stairs and runs up, followed by dozens of soldiers.

"Guess you didn't hear me the first time around."

She spies an elevator shaft behind the wall in front of her.

"I'm leaving."

She busts through the wall and holds on to a cable. An elevator's speeding right towards her. She heats up the bottom, and as it approaches her, she punches right through it.

* * *

"Come on…come on…"

Why won't this damn door open?

Sooner or later someone's going to find her.

"Yes!"

The elevator opens, and she finds herself facing several unconscious soldiers and one Superwoman.

"Fancy meeting you here," she grins.

It's funny. She's pretty sure Superwoman knocked them out, but what her mind's focusing on is her dishevelled hair and the tatters that were once covering her lower torso. Well…more like what's underneath them…

"Er, Ms Pierce?"

"Sorry?"

Was she—was she staring?

"I was asking about your currently being here."

"Oh, I—"

"Civilian! Step away from the escapee!"

She turns to see several soldiers heading her way.

"Fuck," she hears the superhero say. "I guess I'll have to go now."

Brittany watches as the woman punches a hole through the elevator ceiling. Superwoman jumps out through the hole, and just like that, she's gone.

Meaning that she's trapped with several very unhappy-looking soldiers.

Shit.

* * *

He's going to do this.

He's really going to do this.

What's her problem with Superwoman, anyway?

If Taylor didn't know better, he'd say Brittany was crushing on…

No. She couldn't be a….

Could she?

But they've dated. Well, it was only one date, but still.

He…even after all these years. He still had feelings for her.

Maybe…maybe she could grow to love him.

He just has to get rid of the distractions first.

"Taylor, are you sure you want to go through this?"

Vale appears from within the lab.

"You saw what happened earlier, professor. We need Steel Soldier more than ever."

Taylor passes by him and enters the room. He sees a large metal suit in the middle of it, attached to bundles of wires and cords.

"…But Dr Jones…she insisted that the metal fusion technique was at least six months away from being safe…"

Taylor has nothing to lose, does he?

"Dr Jones quit. We're going to have to do what we have to. I don't care if it's untested."

He looks at the contents of the folder in his hands. Pictures, articles of Superwoman of probably almost everything she's done.

_Superwoman saves school bus._

_Superwoman stops robbers._

_Superwoman blows out fire._

Doesn't Metropolis see the danger Superwoman poses?

Even Brittany—crime-busting, truth-seeking Brittany—is distracted by her 'heroic feats'.

Sure, it might look like she's the good guy now, but how are they sure it's all just some guise?

She came out of nowhere; no backstory, no motives even.

If she turns bad now, there'll be nothing to stop her.

"This is what I trained for. Man versus Superman."

She'll see.

* * *

"…yes I am the world's leading scientific mind. Which is why I am asking more from you in return for my cooperation."

Rachel is on a limousine, heading back to her building. Today was just a minor coincidence. She'll be able to catch Superwoman again. She is, after all, the most intelligent human on the Earth today. She does, however, have a little problem at the time being. It seems like somebody outside the military knows of their experiment on Superwoman.

Rachel keeps herself calm.

"First of all, how do you even know about the creature's existence? Secondly, what effect was the word 'krypton' supposed to have on it?"

She hears a low chuckle on the other end.

"_Surely Earth's leading mind would find out the answers eventually."_

"Who is this?" she hisses. "Where are you from?"

She can't deal with her mind being played with. Usually it's the other way around.

"I want to know to what I've been talking to!"

"_All in due time, Berry."_

* * *

In the blackness of space, several kilometres above the dark side of the moon, hangs a space station. Nothing, not even the latest of human space technology, is close to it.

There it is, suspended in the void.

Waiting.

5


	6. Chapter 6

**A/N: **Based on Action Comics #03 (The New 52 series)

* * *

Flashes of green light.

People running.

A man's voice.

Cloth wrapped around her.

A woman's scream.

Darkness.

* * *

Santana opens her eyes. She's lying in her bed, facing towards the center of her room. Light passes through the Venetian blinds, illuminating the mess scattered across the floor.

She blinks off sleep. Echoes of green flash as her eyes close.

She had a nightmare. Santana's not sure of what, exactly, but it was terrible. All she remembers is green light.

"Santana? Are you in there?"

Mrs Nyxly's calling her. What would she want at this hour?

"Santana?"

"Wuh—wait a minute, Mrs N. I just woke up."

She hears her phone ring.

Damn it.

Santana grabs the gym bag underneath her bed and stuffs her supersuit into it. She throws the bag under and then picks up a shirt from a pile on the floor and puts it on. Santana walks over to her desk and puts on her glasses. Then she grabs her phone and answers the call.

"Santana?"

"Give me a second Mrs N."

"_Who's that?"_

It's Sam.

"It's my landlady, Sam. Uh, can't you text it to me or something. Sounds like Mrs N really wants to talk to me."

Santana drops her phone and opens the door. She sees Mrs Nyxly, accompanied by an entire team of police.

"Santana, you look terrible."

Santana gives her a small smile.

"Comparing to how I feel, I'll take that as a compliment."

Santana catches Mrs Nyxly as Officer Fabray pushes her way into the room.

"Hey!"

"Mind if we look around, Lopez?"

Fabray's eyes scan the room, as if looking for bombs or weapons that could be hiding under piles of shirts.

"Looks like you'd still do it, even if I did. What'd I do now, Officer Fabray? Crossed the street on a green light? Published some essential truth I shouldn't have?"

"Santana," Mrs Nyxly says. "I think it's better if you'd quiet down, dear."

Santana looks at her, surprised.

"Mrs N, of I was that type of girl, I wouldn't be in this mess."

She sees Fabray giving her a once over.

"Every time I see you, Lopez, you look roughed up. I'm beginning to think you go out there looking for it."

Well, technically, she does.

Santana fixes her glasses, which have tilted to one side.

"I'll just let you enjoy your sado-masochistic fantasy, officer. And Sergeant Chang," she says, the last words directed to the policeman shifting through her belongings, "the world has so much more to offer than my sock drawer. You're better than this."

She looks at Fabray.

"Actually, all of you are."

"All I know," Mrs Nyxly pipes up, "is that Santana's a decent young lady who pays her bills."

Fabray doesn't break eye contact with Santana.

"A young lady with an outsider's grudge against the world. Going nowhere in the Daily Star under a fossil editor. making the wrong kinds of enemies every time she writes."

Santana doesn't let up, either.

"I work hard at my job, inspector. I won't stop trying to expose the corruption in Metropolis. If that makes me an outsider and a freak—"

Her glasses slide down her nose. She pushes them back up.

"I guess I'll just have to deal with it."

Fabray closes her eyes and sighs.

"Mr Hudson—he'll destroy you if you keep on writing about him, on the Star or on your blog. What you call corruption, Lopez, the rest of the world calls realpolitik."

Santana watches as a hint of sadness flits across the detective's face.

"If you've been as working as long as I have on the force, you learn that there are some things you can't fight, no matter how hard you try."

"That doesn't mean that you have to give up, Inspector. You need to be the cop you wanted to be when you were a kid. Just saying."

The Inspector sighs again.

"You have a lot of attitude for someone not wearing pants Lopez."

"People tell me I have very nice legs."

Fabray rolls her eyes.

"So tell me, Lopez. What's a smart-mouth wonderkid from Ohio got to say about all this Superwoman."

Damn. She didn't expect that.

"Uh…Superwoman. Right."

She fiddles with her glasses.

"A female Robin Hood with the strength of ten men? Mysterious hero who helps without apparent motive? Urban folklore? Though I don't think she counts as the last one anymore, seeing as there are actual pictures of her running 200 miles an hour, picking up cars and flying, so people think she's a freak of nature, a science experiment gone wrong, or right, maybe. I…ah…I can't work it out."

Chang steps into her line of vision.

"Ma'am, there's nothing. She still doesn't own a TV, even."

Santana sees that the police man is holding her gym bag. She holds her breath as Fabray grabs it from him, and zips it open. The inspector takes out a sweatband.

"You work out, Lopez?"

"I'm glad you noticed, Inspector," she deadpans. "Running away from henchmen who want to beat you up is really good cardio; I recommend it."

Fabray hands her the gym bag; Santana lets out a sigh of relief.

"You're a troublemaker, Lopez," the inspector says as she walks out the bedroom door.

"You're messing with powerful people, and that's damn stupid."

Fabray looks at Santana one more time.

"We're watching you."

Once she closes the door, Santana rushes to the window to make sure all the police cars have left.

"With law enforcement like them, no wonder this city's in such a mess. Would it kill them to hassle _real _criminals for a change, Mrs N?"

Hearing no reply, she turns around.

"Mrs N?"

Mrs Nyxly is standing in front of her, her arms hidden behind her back.

"Well now…who knew."

Santana's eyebrows furrow in confusion.

"About what, Mrs N?"

"What's all this about outer space?"

In her hands is Santana's space suit.

* * *

Sam digs into the pasta.

It's funny; Breadstick's spaghetti is the best, but their breadsticks taste like cardboard. Not like he'd say that out loud to Santana.

Speaking of which, Sam notices that she's looking pretty down. She hasn't even touched one single 'stick yet.

"Mwwhhr whrrr choo chsterdei?"

"Sam, I can't understand Pastanese."

He swallows his food.

"Where were you yesterday? Hudson's confession, the thing at the demolition site, the train wreck; usually, you're the first one to get the news."

She watches as Santana starts fiddling with her fingers. Weird—she usually does that when Brittany's around.

"I got my head kicked in. Slept for a day."

Sam worries for the girl. She gets beat up more times in a week than he hits his head while practicing tricks with his lightsaber in a month. That's a lot.

"You better eat, San. You look like my granny could break you. I don't know how you survive all those hard knocks."

"I don't know if I can handle lunch, Sam. God, I just want to get somewhere on my own to think about this. It's a disaster."

Disaster's the word. From what Sam's heard, Santana's at a very dangerous position. One more story about Hudson in a bad light, and she'll probably be jobless.

And that's the best situation.

"Maybe it's the universe's way of telling you to stop biting off more than you can chew, San. I asked you to meet me here at Breadsticks for a reason…"

He points with his fork to the TV screen over the counter, which is currently showing a video of Hudson's mug.

"Look at him, the dude _owns _the TV station. You'd be hard-pressed to win against that."

Santana puts her head in her hands.

"Not if everyone thinks he's a victim of a space monster! Sam, every five minutes, the news anchors start talking about Superwoman being an _alien invader_."

Sam wouldn't be surprised if she was, honestly. Superstrength, superspeed, flight? And she's pretty good-looking to boot…

"Yeah, well she sure ain't from Ohio, so what's new?"

Sam picks at a meatball.

"Superwoman being real is impossible for people to deal with, for starters. So he becomes a hallucination, a hoax, a medical experiment. Now, he's an alien!"

"I had witnesses, hard evidence," he hears Santana groan. "Hudson's using Superwoman to divert attention from himself."

"I know that, and you know that, San."

He drops his fork and leans across the table towards the girl.

"Listen; Sylvester sent me to charm you."

He watches as Santana's face becomes one of disgust.

"Hey! At least I'm easy on the eyes, right?"

"You keep telling yourself that, Trouty."

Sam rolls his eyes.

"Point is, the Daily Planet wants to offer you an escape route, San."

He hears her sigh.

"I owe Mr Schuester and the Star, Sam. They took me seriously when no one else would. Besides—"

She runs her fingers through her hair.

"—Hudson owns the planet _and _Sue Sylvester. He's trying to co-opt me, shut me down…"

Sam leans back into the chair.

"You'd be surprised at how liberal Sylvester is. I'm pretty sure she's making us keep it on the down-low for her sister to be safe and shiz."

Sam looks at Santana to discover that she's not paying attention to him; instead, all her focus is on the television screen. It shows, speak of the devil, Hudson himself, surrounded by tons of reporters.

"_Hudson, the most recent victim of an increasingly violent and unpredictable individual."_

Sam watches as the man's face contorts, about to speak. If the man didn't own more than half of Metropolis, Sam would find it amusing that Hudson's face is in a perpetual state of constipation.

"_I was threatened, tortured to a point where I would have confessed to pretty much anything. This, accompanied by the slurs and insinuations in the Daily Star, is an outrage! My lawyers will _not _overlook these. This so called Superwoman character is a menace to law-abiding citizens…And that's not all. I have expert evidence that this monster is an alien creature from another world!"_

"This is what I'm saying! Aliens on the news!"

Sam turns to face Santana.

"The world's changing fast, San. It gets weirder by the day. That means opportunity. Seriously."

He notices Santana looking at something behind him.

"My sister's response?"

Finally, Brittany's here.

"'_So there's a whole planet of these hot supergirls?'"_

Sometimes, Sam forgets Britt's sister plays for the other team.

His workmate drops on the empty space next to him.

"Lopez, you look like something a dog upchucked."

"Duly noted," Santana replies, monotonously.

Sam sighs.

Well, at least their civil today.

5


	7. Chapter 7

Santana says goodbye to Sam, and nods an acknowledgement to Brittany, before leaving for the park.

When she arrives, she occupies a bench and takes out her laptop.

She hears the sound of creaking wheels and clinking bottles.

"There's a ghost over you. A white dog."

Santana looks up, just as the homeless man leaves with his shopping cart.

* * *

"…_law's going after Superwoman, our home is in the way! So what, we're squatters. Did she think for one second 'bout how we was left homeless after her rampage? Whatever she is!"_

Santana can't believe this.

As more angry faces fill the screens of TVs being displayed in the shop window, she walks away.

She remembers how grateful they were when Superwoman saved them. It just proves how powerful the media is, twisting words so that even the very witnesses doubt what they're seeing.

She takes out her phone and dials a number.

"_Lopez?"_

"'Icarus,'" she says, calling the contributor by his codename.

"_I've missed you, what's up? I know how it feels right now, but you're close to the tipping point. All you have to do is push; Blubberbutt's going to go down._

_Hudson set up the bullet train crash to kill Angus Grundig and anyone else who could rat on him. _

_watch as he now replaces this dabgerous, outmoded travel system with his own robot subway renovation."_

"Built using short-term labor and parts assembled in Asian sweatshops," she scoffs.

Santana looks both ways before crossing the road.

"Who are you, anyway? Tell me something I can use."

"_The _Factory for Tomorrow. _Robot trains._

_Don't lose your nerve, Lopez."_

The call ends.

Santana pockets her phone and continues walking, passing by another TV shop.

"_Hudson is a bright, falling star. A whole new era is on its way."_

She knows that she shouldn't do this to herself, that she shouldn't listen to people who hate her and despise her, but she can't help herself.

She watches as the screen focuses on a man, surrounded by people of all kinds with signs and banners. The headline reads: _Protestors Gather for Anti-Superwoman Rally_.

"_Then Mr Hudson offered us real hope for the future. He gave us jobs and a place to stay in. A man like that shouldn't have to live in fear, is all, and if there is a space monster…_

_I say kill it."_

* * *

"Jack, come down!"

The cat hisses.

Anne begs the cat to come down, but it won't. She doesn't even know how it got up there.

Suddenly, she hears a swoosh, followed by the sound of screaming metal and smell of burning rubber.

"Careful."

The little girl turns around to see a lady carrying Jack with her right arm. The left is midway into a truck whose front has been semi-compressed.

Anne recognizes her.

It's the space monster!

"Mommy!" she screams.

Anne hugs Jack as she watches people stream out of their houses to see what the crash was about.

She cowers in place, never looking away from the space lady.

Anne never knew bad aliens had pretty eyes.

But they looked sad too.

"It's the freak!"

"The space alien!"

"What did she do to that truck?"

"Stay away from my baby!"

It's her mom. Anne sees her as she makes her way through the crowd. Her mom engulfs her in a hug, all but blocking the space lady from her view. All Anne can see now are her pretty, sad eyes.

"Go away!"

"Go back to your planet, freak!"

"Leave us humans alone!"

She sees her neighbors start throwing things at the lady. She even sees bad Mr Puckerman throw a beer bottle at her.

"Mom," she whispers, "why are they being so mean to her? I think she saved me."

Her mom kisses her forehead, and shakes her head.

"You won't understand yet, Anne. You're too young."

Anne watches as the space lady flies away. The space lady with the pretty, sad eyes.

* * *

Santana fights the tears threatening to leak from her eyes.

She lands on the apartment roof top, and runs all the way to her room.

_Freak._

_Demon._

_Monster_

They hate her_._

They hate her, so, so much.

Santana takes off her cape and her shirt, and stuffs them in the trash can.

She can't do this anymore.

A tear rolls down one cheek.

She gets the picture frame on her desk. It's her Ma and Pa.

She sinks to the floor, tears falling down her face.

"Ma. Pa. I'm sorry. I—I tried."

* * *

"I appreciate you talking to me at such short notice, Mr Tide."

Newton Tide looks behind to check if the reporter's following him. They're in the very heart of the factory itself, the place where they assemble the parts. Tide's heard of horror stories where some radical guised up as reporters and things and managed to shut down the entire assembly line for days.

You can't be too careful.

Tide is satisfied when he sees the reporter right behind him.

"Well, we like to think we're at the forefront of the business, Ms Lopez. We do have, after all, the most sophisticated robot drivers connected to a constantly updated travel database. I'm rightly proud of what we've achieved these last few months."

"I see," she replies. "And proud of your record of redundancies too, I suppose. You're at the forefront of job losses in Metropolis, as well. According to the protestors outside, the _Factory for Tomorrow _has no room for ordinary people, is that right?"

The nerve.

Tide turns.

"Put that damn tape recorder away! I thought you said this was a feature on my personal success in business! The other reporters were respectful."

He watches as Lopez pulls back her recorder, and pushes up her glasses.

"I'm sorry, I must have mistaken your lack of discretion for honesty. I thought you wanted to talk about…"

Tide sees the look of confusion form on her face.

"Other reporters?"

He leads her to where the other two are taking pictures of the machinery. That should knock her down a peg or two.

The blondies stop what they're doing and turn around as they approach them.

Tide notices Pierce starts looking angry, while Evans has this 'Uh-oh' expression on his face.

"What?" asks Pierce. "Why are you following us?"

"Following you? What are _you _doing here? This is my story!"

Damn. He should have brought popcorn. The two girls obviously have some tension between them.

You know what they should do? Make out. That'd release the stress.

Evans breaks it up before it really begins. Hmmmmph. Party pooper.

"Britt. San. Guys."

Okay, Tide's starting to get bored.

"I'm having all of you ejected from these premises right now. God," he says, hands in the air, "I thought this was about me!"

"We're going nowhere until you—"

"Urrrrghh!"

Lopez puts cradles her head with her hands.

"That sound. A signal."

Tide hears it too. Fuck. What if the higher-ups hear about a malfunction?

"This operation is entirely above board, and it's not my fault if…if…what the hell?"

All of them have turned to face where the sound was coming from. From behind the machinery, Tide spots these, these things, made of metal moving towards them as if they were alive. He has never seen them before.

"Those don't look like subway cabins. Or robot drivers. Mr T?"

"We—we make subway cars, Evans," he says, horrified as the things inch towards them.

Sounds come out of their mouth, like a language of some sort.

"What's it making? What is this? What's it saying?"

Their LEDs flash green.

Lopez speaks.

"Something got into the network."

* * *

Vale still thinks it's stupid.

This is why he never falls in love.

Desire blinds the mind and brings out the worst in people.

Vale's sure that if Corben wasn't so overly infatuated with Pierce's daughter, he might have seen that the metal-fusion technique being _months _away from being safe is too big a risk to take.

He speaks into the mike.

"Steel Soldier is go for metal-zero fusion."

He looks at Corben, already in the suit, surrounded by the best of his scientists.

"There may be some discomfort at the neuro-electronics bite, Seargent Corben."

"Well then, get on with it! I spent five years training for this. You don't think I'm ready now?"

Vale wants to shake his head.

Foolish.

Reckless.

It's better not to love at all.

Vale sees General Pierce look at Corben with pride.

Does the general even know about Corben's obsession with his daughter?

"You're a brave man, Taylor. The first line of defense against an alien invasion."

"Thank you, sir."

The scientists put connect the last wires to John's cranium.

Vale sees Corben twist in pain.

"Ghhh…spinal bond…phhttth…s'harsh…it's…"

Corben's head jerks.

"_Oh no, No. Stop it! This isn't right!"_

Vale's eyes widen. The voice doesn't sound like Corben's.

Corben's eyes glow green.

Something's gone wrong. Terribly wrong.

"_What's it doing to me? I'm a human being. Brittany, I did it for Brittany for…"_

A tear falls from his eye.

"_AAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHH!"_

Green electricity crackles around his metal suit. The entirety of his eyes glow green. Beeps issue from the tablet in Vale's hand. He reads the notifica—

"OH GOD. TAYLOR. HIS HEART BURST!"

Vale backs away from the man in the metal suit.

"_I am. _

_I am without a_

_heart."_

The monster steps towards Vale and holds his neck with a metal grip. Vale feels consciousness fading away.

"_I am the voice of the colony of the collector of worlds."_

He feels cold, hard fingers push into his neck.

"Ah! Then may I be the first to welcome you to Planet Earth. I'm Rachel Berry. You and I…we made a bargain, remember?"

That _bitch_.

Vale feels the hand close tighter around his neck.

"_Then where._

_Is._

_SUPERWOMAN!"_

5


End file.
